Hiding in the Clockwork
by MikiMoke
Summary: "Surely you have family?" she inquired. "Aside from my sister?" he replied. "No. None at all. All I have left is the fading memory of my maker. It is the eternal curse that haunts me so, but all of our makers are sure to erase their faces from our minds. It helps keep them hidden. We aren't even left with names, only 'Father' or 'Mother', or even just 'the Warlock'. It's sad, no?"


**Erm... I hope everyone enjoys? Please, feedback is much appreciated, and I would like to know everyone's thoughts on my OC(s).**

* * *

He held in his hands a book he'd been meaning to read, barely making it past the first page when the doors to the Great Library opened. He felt annoyance tug at his chest, but knew that Charlotte wouldn't bother him unless it was important. And, with most things, it was important.

She entered the room clad in a dark evening gown, her hair kept back in a neat bunch that covered the nape of her neck. He was amazed at how much she'd grown in the years he'd been there; little over a decade ago, she couldn't even get herself ready without help from her mother. And now she was all grown up... Beside her was a young boy – Indie assumed he was around twelve – and he looked more or less unsettled about something. Indie could feel the unsettlement, too. It was radiating from the boy like a heat source.

"This is the Great Library," Charlotte told the boy. He looked particularly interested in the books surrounding the three of them.

Something in Charlotte's voice told him she hadn't spotted him yet, as did her small jump when her dark brown eyes landed on his still form. "Oh, Indie," she breathed, shocked. "You gave me quite a fright."

Indie shrugged, turning back to his book. "I know," he told her. It was true – Indie could feel Charlotte's startled heart thumping as thought it were actually in his chest. If he timed himself right, he could even demonstrate to her how fast it was beating by tapping his foot on the ground.

Charlotte cleared her throat, turning her attention to the boy once again. They'd walked a little closer to Indie, giving him a better look at the boy when he glanced at him. Dark hair that fell over his deep blue eyes, also rather tall for a boy his age. It didn't matter, though; Indie was sure this boy would grow into his height, so to speak.

"I'd like you to meat Indigo," Charlotte said to the boy. "He's like a sort of guardian of the Institute, you could say."

Displeased with how she'd put his purpose, Indie snapped his book shut and turned to the two of them. He stood, placed the book on his seat, and strode over to them as calmly as he could. When he arrived in front of them, he knelt down so he could look the boy in the eye.

"What's your name, lad?" he demanded. The boy was a little nervous now, replacing the unsettling waves he emitted previously.

"William Herondale, sir," he said proudly. He was good at putting on a brave face, that was for sure.

"Herondale, Herondale... You wouldn't happen to be related Edmund Herondale, would you?"

William nodded slowly. "He's my father."

Indie nodded back to him. "Well, _William Herondale_," he said. "I'm going to give you an important lesson about what I am and what I do – and tell you a few things you won't find in a mostly useful book. First of all, I am not of Nephilim blood. The only tie I have to Raziel is the blood used to bring me into being. Secondly, I am a very important object to the Clave; as are the rest of my kind. We're a dying race, and it doesn't help that the Warlocks who made us are slowly dying as well.

"There's a very big part of me you should know about, as well – three, actually. The first is that I will never age. Try I may, I won't age a day compared to the rest of you. The second is that I was made to withstand any kind of pain and suffering. You could say I'm like a worn-out doll; so much damage has become of me that I hardly feel half of it anymore. And the third and most important thing is that I am very, _very_ good at reading people. As to how I do it, I will leave you to figure it out."

Indie stood back up and glanced at Charlotte in a bored manner. "That covers everything, doesn't it?" he inquired. "I feel like I've left something out."

The Shadowhunter girl sighed and shook her head in disbelief. She told Indie that she would tell William everything else he had left out, and quickly left with the boy soon after. Indie couldn't help but smile to himself. He had to admit that he saw much promise in the boy, but there was something he was hiding – not every child sought by the Clave was unsettled by simply being in an Institute.

_No_, Indie thought to himself, taking his seat once more and opening his book. _There's something else bothering the boy. I should hope he's good at keep his emotions in check; after all, the last thing I want is to feel depressed while reading a good book or eating a delicious dinner._

* * *

"You aren't doing it right," Indie sang, barely looking up from his newspaper. Will glanced back, his annoyance flying right at the reading boy, and continued with his training. Charlotte and a few others were with Will, helping him with his training and giving him advice on how to handle the throwing knives better. Indie found it quite laughable to listen to: A frustrated boy who just entered his teens, hopelessly trying to get a throwing knife to hit the centre of a target while his mentors constantly told him to "do this" and "do that".

It was even more amusing than the ridiculous article about some senile old man attacking a couple whilst they were walking through the park.

The thought made him chuckle, and he tried to hold it back. However, all that succeeded in doing was alerting Charlotte to his amusement.

She turned to him, glaring daggers at him. It was obvious that she was having a hard time teaching Will, especially when almost everyone was giving their own input. So it was expected that she sound infuriated when she growled at Indie, "_You_ teach him, then!"

That was all the permission Indie needed. Teach the young Herondale? That was child's play.

Indie folded the newspaper and set it aside, and then seated himself on the floor with his legs crossed. He rested his forearms on his knees and places his hands near his stomach, cupping them as though he held a fragile object inside them. His eyes closed for a moment, the sounds of the room and everyone's voices fading away with the blackness that rippled his "third eye". That blackness soon turned to a colour all too familiar – the indigo hue that he and he alone was named after. The indigo took form, and Indie could feel himself being ripped away from his body.

His eyes opened again, and his location had changed. He felt lighter, as though he were made from the air itself, and he knew that his form had changed slightly. He knew that he had no solid colour on him, not even a solid form; he knew that nothing could touch him, nor could he touch anything in turn; he also knew that he looked incomplete, his feet fading away into wisps of air with each movement he made. He moved about like he was water, his every movement fluid and graceful. He had to be careful, though; too much time like this would have him out for days, if not hours after returning to his body.

Indie glanced around and found that everyone was watching his unmoving, unbreathing body, none of them aware of his form floating around them, making his way to Will's side. A chill seemed to run up Will's arm, as the limb shuddered and the boy almost dropped the throwing knife in surprise. Will's blue eyes glanced over at Indie's place – not his body's spot, but his temporal form.

_Can you see me?_ Indie asked. He didn't need to move his mouth to talk; his mind was his voice.

The boy slowly nodded.

_You should prepare yourself, lad. Melding with your kind can drain us both if I stay inside for too long; and, just by judging your age, you wouldn't be active for a while if I took my sweet time teaching you how to throw a knife._

Before Will could react or respond, Indie reached out and felt himself be dragged into the boy's body. His temporal form shifted, shrinking to Will's size, and he could feel his appearance change in the slightest. His eyes – as indigo as his name – morphed into the blue ones that belonged to the Herondale boy. Soon enough, he was viewing the world through Will's eyes.

_Keep calm, Will_, he advised. _If you panic, I'll be forced out and we'll both be unconscious for a while – that is something we _don't _want._

_How are you doing this?_ Will thought at him. Indie chuckled. It seemed that Charlotte had missed a subject when telling Will about him.

_Never mind that. What I want you to do is keep three throwing knives in your reach. This is a simple, three-step lesson. All you have to do is let me move you around for a moment, and then give it a try yourself when you're used to the positioning._

Will seemed to understand, his body bending to Indie's control and he corrected his leg width and the slouch in his back. Indie reached for the first dagger – already held in Will's other hand – and slowly lined up the shot. He held the blade lightly, and in one fluid motion flicked it from Will's fingers to the target. He almost hit the target.

_Do you see what I'm doing?_

_I... I think so._

_Good. Now for step two: Repeat._

Indie did the same thing yet again, this time a little bit faster. Finally, he did it one more time, giving Will just a bit of control. Once again, the knife was close to the centre of the target.

As quick as he'd gone in, Indie pulled out of the teen and flew back to his body, sucking in a deep breath when he opened his eyes and felt himself lock inside. He rested his head on the wall behind him, tired, and spotting Charlotte sighing at him.

"I didn't mean to teach him that way, Indigo," she scolded. Indie shrugged at her, laughing a little.

"It's how I teach, Lottie," he told her. "I can't help it if it works better."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Will, who looked a little more out of breath than Indie felt. Indie couldn't blame him, either; with his size and limited strength, he hadn't been expecting Will to even be conscious at the moment. The boy was stronger than he gave credit for.

With a glance back at Indie, Will glared at the target at the wall and reached for a forth knife. He imitated the stance Indie had put him it, even fixed the slouch in his back, and carefully took aim. He launched the knife into the air, its blade aimed right at the target.

To Indie's surprise, it was a bullseye.

* * *

Dinner was finally served, Indie's snack from earlier already gone as Agatha and Sophie placed the various foods on the table. As usual, Charlotte sat at the head of the table, Henry by her side and Jessamine on her own. Tonight, strangely enough, Indie had been invited to sit between Will and Jem, the now-_parabatai_ of the Institute.

He couldn't help but feel a little suspicious, especially when Will gave off a scheming air every two minutes. Something mischievous was on that boy's mind, and Indie didn't want to have any part of it.

Dinner passed as quickly as it went, the usually conversation spark between them. Charlotte asked how everyone was, while Henry went on about a new invention he was working on. Will often made remarks that made Jem and Indie laugh to themselves, while Jem stayed polite with everyone and spoke with much manners. Jessamine, like always, acted disinterested and bored, barely caring about her surroundings. Indie knew this was just a front, though. It always was with Jessamine.

The plates were collected, as were the empty trays that once held food, and conversation was struck up again, this time with Shadowhunter business. Before anything could be said, Will brought the topic to Indie.

"I was walking through the corridors today, minding my own business," he told everyone. _This can't be good,_ Indie thought. "When I should happen upon a small table with a single envelope placed on it. It was addressed to a man named Indigo. Who do we know named Indigo?"

Will feigned cluelessness, and then reached into his trouser pocket. He produced an unopened envelope from it and dangled it in front of Indie, grinning widely. "Who might this Violet lady be, Indie?" he inquired. Indie snatched the envelope from Will with a tested smile, trying to keep his annoyance at bay.

"My sister, William," he informed him. "I've been expecting a letter from her, might I add. I've been told she's been getting better lately, and I'm awaiting news of her arrival."

Jem's ears perked up at this information, an honest curiosity settling over him. "I thought your kind didn't have siblings?" he noted. Indie nodded, confirming that Jem was partly right.

"We _can_ be made with siblings, but we're always made as twins or triplets, mostly as twins of opposite gender. We aren't made as siblings much, though, because our energy and power gets sliced in half to keep both us and the Warlock creating us alive. That doesn't mean we're entirely weak, though; as a safeguard, we're made with extra resistance to fatal wounds."

A blink from Charlotte, a shocked, "The Ahiab Demon, then..."

Indie nodded. "Because we aren't at our full potential, we're made as more of a shield than a sword, so to speak. We're useful when it comes to defending Nephilim, and we're less likely to be killed if we leave the Institute's safety. But, as I said, we're still weaker than most." A frown came over Indie, his thoughts drifting to Violet. She had been having trouble with her health, ever since her creation. So many decades were spent by their "father" to make her as healthy and as ready as Indie, and still she wasn't fully well enough to make the journey to London.

"Indie," Charlotte said. Indie blinked a few times and felt his head clear, his mind reminding him that he was at the dinner table at the moment. "You looked a little lost."

"Oh, yes," Indie replied, embarrassed. He quickly tucked the letter into his pocket and rose from his seat. "Thinking about Violet does get me a little lost at times. I'll be in the library, if anyone needs me."

No one stopped him, and no one followed him. That was how Indie wanted it. The explanation – and Charlotte's recollection – brought back a very pained memory for him, this time not concerning Violet. No, it was the Ahiab sting. He supposed it was a good thing that Charlotte was getting a small explanation, even if it was ten years after it had happened.

It had been such a simple day. Charlotte's parents had let her go out for a stroll, as long as Indie was with her, and they'd made it all the way to Hyde Park when an Ahiab attacked them unexpectedly. Charlotte wasn't fast enough with her reaction, which almost caused her to be taken by the demon and to have Lord knows what happen to her. Indie had been fast enough to intervene, though, and stood between Charlotte and the Ahiab as the demon latched onto him. It had bitten down so many times on his shoulder and arm, stinging him more than he could count. By the time he had beaten it into fleeing, his entire right arm had lost sensation and – ever so slowly – use. Thankfully, Nephilim runes had some effect on his kind, and soon enough he had been vomiting up the poison while an _irazte_ was drawn on his back and his arm was placed in a sling.

Still, he hadn't been able to use that arm for weeks. On top of that, Charlotte continuously blamed herself for not being careful enough, and had managed to think that he would never use his arm again.

Indie surprised himself when he arrived at the Great Library; he hadn't realised that he was still walking, and managed to enter the library and pick a book without even thinking. More so, it was a book he enjoyed the last time he read it: _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, the book was called. He had fallen in love with the book the moment he read it, finding its nonsense to be something he desired. It was true, Indie wanted nothing more than to go somewhere he'd never been, but being as old as he was and having travel around as much as he had, he had seen almost everything to see.

He sat down in his seat, forgetting his sister's letter for the moment, and opened the book to the first page.

_Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do..._


End file.
